


Wormwood

by JoAsakura



Series: The Language of Memory [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't unburn your bridges, but sometimes you can pretend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wormwood

**Author's Note:**

> I can't play FPS games at all - they're an instant invitation to vertigo and vomit. But I'm really taken with a lot of the Overwatch lore and honestly, bitter old men are kind of my jam.

Location: Makeshift Overwatch Headquarters, Gibraltar

"I'm not going to say I appreciated your help today, Reaper." Jack said as he strode down the hallway. The persistent cold spot behind and to his left told him Gabriel was still there.

(Gabriel.) THe thought stuck in his craw, and he was thankful for the mask.

"I'm not looking for your thanks... Soldier. 76. Whatever you're calling yourself these days, Jack." Reaper's hollow voice itched against his nerves. "The monkey made me an offer."

"He's a gorilla and you know that. And he made you an offer that got you to stop killing your.. " Jack stalked into the spartan quarters he called home. "How professional of you."

Reaper leaned in the doorway as Jack flung open the mini fridge and pulled out a beer. His tactical visor pulled up a wealth of unhelpful information about the bottle and it's contents.

"You're still drinking that shitty light beer." Reaper said, unmoving. "What did you call it, hay-baling beer?"

"You don't drink a Belgian dubbel to cool off." Jack regarded the bottle again, then touched his visor to release it and the mask. "I'm too damn tired to fight with you right now. Do you want a goddamn beer or not, you snob?"

Reaper stiffened, and for a moment, Jack was pleased by the loss of the other's composure. "Yes. I want a goddamn beer, but I'll settle for that." He said, catching the sweating bottle Jack threw at him, claws clinking against the glass. "...you got old, Jack." Reaper added, monotone as the expressionless mask tipped down. 

(Same tactical equipment spitting out the same bullshit about the ABV and glass impurities) Jack thought as the merc touched his own mask, lifting it up and pushing back his hood in the same motion. "You murderous fuck. At least I had the option of getting old, unlike the..." The rest of the retort died on his lips as he looked into a face he thought he'd never see again.

Gabriel Reyes. 

Scarred face too young and too old all at once, brown skin dusted in shifting patches of ashy grey and his cropped hair more iron than Jack's silver. Tight lines around his dark eyes as he thumbed off the cap with an armoured finger.

"What the hell happened to you, Gabriel?" Jack asked softly, fingers twitching on his own bottle as Reaper.. As Gabriel... Took a drink and swished the beer around in his mouth.

"Oh, you should absolutely ask Angela about that one." Gabriel said bitterly. "I'm not dead, I'm not alive. She puts on an angel cosplay and thinks that makes her God." He took another swig of the beer. "This is the first beer I've had in years, you know that? I don't have to eat anymore, or drink. Just... " He fell silent. "Souls. I eat souls, Jack. That kind of repriortises shit for a man."

"Souls, huh." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "What's that feel like?"

Gabriel looked at nothing for a moment, then back at Jack. "You ever eat a freezer-burned hot dog?"

Jack blinked, then scowled as Gabriel snorted.

"Of course you have, you'd eat anything back in the day. So yeah, tastes kind of familiar, but disgusting and wrong too, right? Imagine having a million of them shoved in your mouth all at once, and washing it down with a tanker full of skunked light beer. Disgusting, familiar, expected, unexpected, unwanted. That is what it feels like."

Gabriel started to pace. "Souls, life force. Energy. Whatever you want to call it. Stabilizes the constant cycle of decay and regeneration I'm trapped in." Gabriel stalked towards the balcony, squinting out at the sea. "The chaos, the fear, the smell of death. It helps. It makes it stop for a few minutes, at least."

"...Gabriel." Jack took a drink, forcing his hand to relax before he shattered the glass.

"I don't want your pity, Jack." Gabriel leaned against the railing. "I'm not here for your forgiveness. GOD!" He spat the words out, slamming one gloved hand against the metal. "I hated you so much. I hated how you let them make you the face of Overwatch. I hated that you didn't even care what it did to.." He took another drink. "I hate you. I hate myself. I hate what I've become. Is that what you were hoping to hear the terrible Reaper say at some point?"

"If I could go back in time..." Jack took a hesitant step forward, focused on the blue beyond. "I wanted that spotlight, Gabe. I wanted to be important, not just.. Not who I was. I'm sorry." Gabriel stiffened but didn't turn, so he continued. "Our egos. MY ego. And now there's so much bitter water under burned bridges. We can't fix the past. It is what it is."

There was a soft clink as Gabriel set down his bottle and turned awkwardly to Jack, holding out a clawed hand. Jack looked down at it, half-tensed, waiting for a blow that never came. The man in black sighed and rolled his eyes. "Hi. Gabriel Reyes. Some folks call me Reaper."

"Gabriel, what..." Jack froze. (We can't fix the past.) He thought, then with a snort, and took the hand in his own with a brisk shake. "Jack Morrison, Soldier:76." 

"That's a stupid code name." One eyebrow lifted on Gabriel's patchy face.

"Strong words coming from the Hot Topic edition of Guns and Ammo." Jack felt a smile pull at the corner of his own mouth, echoed by the man across from him.

"Pretty ballsy, an elderly guy like you inviting strange men up to his apartment." Gabriel added, lightly. If Jack Morrison had been a romantic, he would have thought, maybe even, hopefully.

"Well, lucky for you I have a thing for aging trashy edgelords." It was one swift motion, bottle set down, closing the space between them as it hadn't for so many years. He pressed his hands flat against the wall on either side of Gabriel's shoulders, as if to dare him to escape, and leaned in. 

There was a peculiar smell. He'd read as a child how outer space was supposed to smell like hot metal, burned meat. That was what Reaper smelled like. Like a dead man with a gun. It was a smell he understood all too well. And Jack leaned into that scent and for a moment, let his lips brush over Gabriel's, the other man un resisting.

Jack froze as they separated, just by a hair. "You taste like.."

"Freezer burned hot dog and lousy beer?" Gabriel rumbled. "I warned you."

"I knew a guy once who said I'd eat anything." Jack said softly as he leaned in again, mouth hard against Gabriel's this time. He shivered at the scrape of those clawed gauntlets against his scalp and down the small of his back, a gasp devoured in the kiss that he was sure had been lost forever.

There was a stumble, a thump in the hallway and they both froze, catching sight of a pink rabbit hoodie fleeing and to Jack's surprise, Gabriel laughed. Not Reaper's low, nasty chortle, but something brief and genuine. His lips ghosted against the rough stubble of Jack's jawline and Gabriel sighed. "Maybe that was for the best. Let's take it slow, Soldier." He whispered, form shuddering into black smoke that slipped from Jack's embrace, to reform in the doorway.

"And if new beginnings aren't all they're cracked up to be?" Jack smoothed back his hair, watching Gabriel's retreat.

"Then we can always go back to trying to kill each other... Soldier." Gabriel said as he slipped away.

EPILOGUE 1

McCree was focused on cleaning his guns when Hana suddenly materialized next to him, peering over his shoulder. He turned his screech of surprise into a manly throat clearing and turned to the young woman beside him. "What can I do for ya, D.Va?"

"Jesse Oppa.." She sat on the edge of his workbench, face scrunched in thought. "Can old people have sex?"

"HANA!" McCree sat straight up. "Did that Junkrat fella show you porn or somethin? Because if he did, there's gonna be strong words between him an' I.."

She looked at him in disgust. "What? NO. I just saw Mr. Morrison making out with Reaper. And they're both..." She flailed for a moment. "Old. Not as old as Mr. Reinhardt, but still. OLD."

"That... Might be a question you wanna direct at Angela." McCree tugged his hat down. "I mean, those kinda questions in general. But yeah, old people can do that stuff too."

Hana patted his shoulder. "That's good news, Oppa. That means there's time for you and Hanzo."

"Now that's just plain rude, girl." McCree swatted at her as she danced away.

(Reyes and Morrison. Don't that beat all.) He thought, alone again. (Don't that just beat all.)

EPILOGUE 2

Jack leaned his head against the cold tile of the shower as the hot water beat down on his back. The smell of burning metal was still in his nose, roiling in his guts and aching in his cock. 

He was an old man, goddamnit. Too old to be standing in the shower, soap smoothing the friction between his hand and his shaft as he remembered that smell, the touch of claws on his scalp, the feel of a dead man's lips on his.

He was too old for make-believe. 

But just for a moment. For a moment, he had wanted something so badly, it was as if he'd never wanted anything before.

And a dead man's name was in his mouth as he came.

EPILOGUE 3

"Reaper." Angela looked up from her medical reports at the black-armoured man in her doorway. "You're looking well."

"What did you do to me... Mercy?" The code name was thick with distaste.

"I told you, I still don't know what happened when I tried to save you, Gabriel. I don't know why things.." She froze, eyes narrowing. "That's not what you mean."

"Look at my face." Gabriel said softly and she approached, examining his unblemished lips, the dark skin of his cheek, unmarred by the grey patches. 

"I'd have to do tests, but it looks like that section of tissue is in equilibrium. I thought you weren't going to ... Feed while you were here." She said coldly.

"I didn't. I.. I kissed Jack." Gabriel's jaw twitched. "Angela, am I a danger to him?"

She straightened and turned away with a cold laugh. "I think, perhaps, you are... Reaper."


End file.
